So Far Away
by Hathalmir
Summary: Fingon and his writer, talk.


Ramlatch eyes curiously the tall dark haired elf using her "clumsy arrows and bow" to play target with the flecks of wood on her target setup. "So what's the reason for you being here, you think?"  
  
"I do not know, and if I did know, I would tell you." The elf gives her a look, patiently and luckily this time keeps her from seeing the Ages of time in his eyes which made her almost pass out the last time.  
  
"But...why are you here? I don't understand. You're hiding from him, aren't you." Ramlatch hesitates, then asks again, for honestly the millionth time, even though she knows already the answer, "Aren't you?"  
  
Fingon looks unsettled for a moment, almost uncomfortable, but raises the bow easily and a light thwak is heard as he landed it in a spider running across the wood paneling.  
  
Ramlatch ignores this and keeps asking.  
  
"You've been here for years. You know it, and I know it. But why now? Because of them? All of them showing up now? I know you've been here for a long time, don't give me any of the nonsense about me inviting you here because of Russandol or whatever. You've been with me for a very long time, since the first time I heard your voice when I read your tale in the Silmarillion book. But... I don't understand why you hide."  
  
Fingon says nothing, finishing the quiver and going to the target, removing the arrows and coming back to begin again.  
  
Ramlatch is frustrated and keeps talking.  
  
"What do you remember, at least? I don't understand this. One is searching for you, and the other has a tall muscular body-builder type you and seems fairly happy. Why...hide? Why have you been here for so long and yet not quite? I don't understand."  
  
Quendi closes his lips and tightens jaw, grey eyes going a bit darker than usual - at least in the 'usual' of the time Ramlatch has known said Quendi.  
  
"What can I say? I remember so many things, so many little things and so many big ones. They say I am valiant? Well perhaps I am, I wouldn't say it outloud though."  
  
"But what kind of memories? And of course you're valiant, you saved Maedhros from the uh, the thing. The cliff thing." Ramlatch is unable to put the words together, as she has not had coffee yet.  
  
Findekano, the mighty archer pauses, Ramlatch's mention of the cliff making him miss, for once. Then a quirk of an almost-amusement, before going back to being impeccably stoic.  
  
"Memories of Maedhros humming as he carefully removed the silver locks from my hair that held the braids in place. His laughter at the crinkling in it from the plaits. The first soft taste of warm lips on mine." Fingon pauses again, speaking surprisingly even given the circumstances. "For being told he was well-formed, his lips were not full and considered kissable, but they were his. And I loved him. I still do love him, even after all this time."  
  
Another arrow is taken from Ramlatch's makeshift quiver, and Ramlatch cuddles one of the cats, sitting in the grass and watching him, letting the elf speak.  
  
"The haunted look in his grey eyes as we got ourselves drunk and I kissed him for the first time. The look as he realized he wanted more than a kiss. I could tell. I have always known his heart, at least, as much as was not hidden from me."  
  
Fingon looks suddenly frighteningly angry and the sheep grazing nearby as if sensing it, bolt from the mortal and elf, running back into their fenced feild.  
  
"Celegorm's sneer, realizing for the first time that we were more than friends. The shadow of poison in his eyes that told me he would remember that. He would remember everything."  
  
"...um. What about nice memories, like of making out with Maedhros -- excuse me, maedthros, and stuff like that? I mean, well hell, I don't understand this at all." Ramlatch quiets, not sure what to say.  
  
Dark-haired elf looks over for a brief moment, likely condescendingly, before getting a bit sappy in his face.  
  
"Candlelight on Maedhros' hair. The anger at being called well-formed for my weakness and removing of his hand to bring him from Thangorodrim... I may have eventually had his forgiveness, but never will I have my own. Ever. But even then I thought he was beautiful, and I held him, and I tended to him, and silently we lived, we survived. The Hroa is not supposed to live when the fea is gone, but though we had lost much of our selves, we had enough between to keep the two of us alive, I think."  
  
Fingon says, "I know you wonder why I am here and not doing something else. The now, considers it a name called celebrity. I hate this language, English. It is crude and harsh on the tongue at times. But Celebrity, is what it felt like. I did not like being known as something I was not. I was a coward, I could not survive without him, because of love and..." Fingon drifts off, then finally gives Ramlatch a very long look.  
  
"I was not afraid of death. I was afraid of living." 


End file.
